


Voices Vanished and Gone

by CG (NYCScribbler)



Category: Brandy (Song)
Genre: 18th Century, Anachronic Order, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYCScribbler/pseuds/CG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How they met; how they parted.  Brandy still loves a man who's not around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voices Vanished and Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Who Shot AR (akerwis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akerwis/gifts).



There was little kindness in the streets of Philadelphia when the night fell, and she was a woman alone. She could hear the echoes of her past sharp in her heels against the cobblestones- people and places and promises, debts and deeds and doubts- and she hurried her steps before she could consider where she had come from and what she had done.

The sign of the Green Dog swayed in the breeze, a beacon to welcome her, and she tapped the bottom of it in a familiar ritual as she went around to the back. Stephen, the tavern's owner, greeted her with a hearty handshake and a tray full of tankards to bring to the customers. There was a time when he had done more, and a time when he had been willing to do even more than that, but he was married now, and his wife lived above the tavern.

The winds from the south must have blown strong and fair over the last several days, for the Green Dog was full to bursting with rowdy sailors and those who sought to part them from their pay. She swayed her way between tables with her tray, dishing out glasses of whiskey and bottles of wine to the waiting customers and leaning away from some of their less welcome touches. Some women at the Green Dog let the sailors take them upstairs for a roll in the bed and a few coins, but Brandy wasn't that desperate yet.

One of those hands on her buttock locked on and pinched hard. She squirmed, trying to get away, and then the hand was gone with some force and a howled curse. “Jack, you minging idiot, do you _want_ us to get thrown out?” someone asked with frustration and fondness in their voice.

Brandy turned to face the table, hands on her hips and sharp words ready on her tongue as she looked at the two men. The redhead had clearly been the one who grabbed her, since he was holding an injured wrist and had a sullen look on his face. The stocky man on his right, whose hair was brown with hints of auburn, looked at him, slapped him in the back of the head, and said, “Stop whining.”

As the redhead sulked, the other man looked at Brandy and said, “I apologize for Jack. He's got all the good sense God gave a particularly stupid donkey.”

“I'll accept that apology when your friend's ready to give it,” Brandy answered, swinging back around to give the next batch of customers their drinks.

Jack yelped. “Hey! Barmaid!” he shouted. “I'm sorry! I shan't do it again! It’s just such a bonny one that- your mother's _balls_!”

“They're bigger than yours,” the brunet replied, lowering his hand from the back of Jack's head. “You call that an apology? We've been kinder to Spanish merchants. You mind that time in St. George when I said the next time you were that much of an idiot, I'd box your ears? You've come fair close to it. Now, let's go back to the _Storm_ before you do something that'll have Rebecca flying down from her tower to rip you the new hole you deserve.”

Jack shuddered and leaped out of his chair as if he'd been kicked. The brunet looked back at Brandy with a sheepish expression. Brandy offered him a raised eyebrow and a twist to her mouth.

 

 _”What news of the_ Storm _?” she asks Stephen, as she asks every night._

 _“No word has come here, and I have made sure to ask. If the_ Storm _has made port anywhere in the colonies, it is not in Philadelphia,” Stephen answers._

_“And Lawrence?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_Brandy sighs. Stephen puts a hand on her shoulder. The sea is a hard lover to leave. I know this from long painful years. You must give him time. Now, go home and rest.”_

_The night is warm, so she wears the scarf about her waist and lets the locket shine in the moonlight._

 

The two men were back the next afternoon, sitting at a table near the door when Brandy came in. “Excuse me, miss,” the brunet said.

Brandy turned and looked at him. He turned and looked at Jack. Jack cleared his throat. “All right, I apologize for putting my hands on you. I didn't think you'd mind- most of the girls don't mind, and I've a talent for pleasing them- but-”

“If this is your idea of an apology, you've not won me over,” Brandy interrupted, fixing him with a glare from the light brown eyes that had given her the name she chose to answer to.

Jack took a deep breath. “I apologize. I shan't do it again. May I have your forgiveness?”

“So long as you mind your hands,” Brandy replied.

“I knew you had it in you,” the brunet said to Jack.

“You're a right ass,” Jack replied.

“And you're an expert in the matter, so thank you.”

“You fight like an old married couple,” Brandy laughed.

“Perish the thought. No woman in her right mind would have Jack,” the brunet replied.

“And yet I haven't spent a night alone that wasn't of my free will since I came of age, so what does that say of your judgment of womankind?” Jack fired back. “Speaking of the type, fetch another round, would you?”

Brandy decided that “the type” wasn't worth a fight, and went for the drinks. The brunet gave her twice their value in Spanish coin. “The rest is for putting up with us without having us out on our tails,” he explained, looking her in the eye. His eyes were a darker brown than hers, she noticed, but nearly as striking. “And you must be Brandy,” he added.

“You have the advantage of me, sir,” Brandy answered.

“He'd like to, I'm sure,” Jack said with a leer.

The brunet slapped Jack upside the head again. “Lawrence,” he said. “Of the privateer _Storm_ , as is yon imbecile I've been saddled with.”

“I recall you dragging me out in the dead of night,” Jack said.

Brandy left them to argue in the manner of old friends, aware that some things were better left alone.

 

 _”Have you any news of the_ Storm _?” Brandy asks as she prepares for her work, wiping the mud from her face with a cloth and tying a red and green scarf around her right arm._

_“None,” Rebecca answers. “I asked yesterday when I went to claim the shipment from Boston.”_

_Brandy glares up at Stephen's wife- a hard task, for Rebecca is as tall as any man, long-faced and harsh-featured. Yet Stephen took her to wife and loves her dear for her keen wit and good heart. “And have you asked today?”_

_“I understand your impatience,” Rebecca says gently._

_The worst of it is that Brandy cannot fault her. It's said that Rebecca waited five years for Stephen, and Brandy has not yet waited so long._

_Rebecca's voice is soft, meant to soothe. “The sea life is not easy to leave. If he chooses you, he will miss the ocean every day of his life. If he chooses the_ Storm _, he will miss you every day of his life. Let him work it through.”_

 

The next time Lawrence came to the Green Dog, he came alone, having left Jack to his own devices at houses of ill repute. “I've no doubt he'll find his way here after a few tumbles and a misunderstanding or two. He's been this way for as long as I've known him.”

“And how long is _that?_ ” Brandy asked.

“Oh, for as long as I can recall. We've known each other since we were bairns. Ran away together to join the navy,” Lawrence answered.

That had not been the answer Brandy had expected, and she stared at him slack-jawed. He smiled back, lines forming around his eyes and making his freckles stand out. “Aye, for my sins, I suppose. You'll notice I allow him a... certain liberty... I don't allow anyone else. He's my boyo, and I've the mixed fortune to be his.”

“I've noticed it before, but it's stronger now. You have an accent I've never heard before,” Brandy said.

“You've sharp ears. Aye, Jack and I come from the north, hard on the Scots border. Took many a year to shake the accent so none could guess where we hailed from. The touch of the lash was a help to that.” Lawrence shrugged at her stare. “Life in His Majesty's navy is not easy for a boy from the north, nor would I want it to be.”

“Would you tell me of your childhood? Growing up with all the trouble Jack brings with him must have been a trial,” Brandy said.

Lawrence smiled, but there was some strain to it. “In those days, I had as much a part in that trouble as he did. He grew bigger, but I grew first, and he was more willing to follow the leader...”

They passed hours that way, Lawrence picking up where he had left off whenever Brandy was called away to serve more drinks. He only stopped when a messenger from the docks said that the _Storm_ would sail at the next tide.

 

_The sailor is deep in his cups, as they are so often at the Green Dog if Brandy and the other barmaids have done their job well. He looks up at Brandy blearily, his eyes unfocused. “Such a fine girl you are,” he slurs._

_The words give her a start, but this man is fair-haired and narrow-faced, not her Lawrence, not the man whose name rests close against her heart. She puts another glass down on the table and moves along._

_Another man, another drunk, and Brandy puts the whiskey in front of him. He stares at her and says something like, “Your eyes... a man could lose himself in those and forget the sea.”_

_Brandy bites her lip so hard that she draws blood._

 

“I should not be doing this to you!”

Brandy turned her head at both the venom in his words and the slam of the glass on the table. “You're kinder than most,” she told him.

He shook his head angrily. “You're a fine girl, and you'd make any man a fine wife. Any man who wasn't married to the sea. Not me. Never me.”

“So stay with me.”

“And do what? I've no trade of any use on land. I made sure of that when I ran away from home. I can give you nothing that you deserve, just trinkets claimed from dead pirates and stolen from merchants, in the hope that they'll look pretty on you. The sea is all I know. She's the only one who's true to me, because I expect nothing but betrayal from her.”

Brandy bit her lip, not knowing what to say. “I have never betrayed you and never would,” she said.

“No matter. I would betray you in some way or another. You're better not waiting. Someday I won't return. The sea always wins. She always betrays you and you always fight her, but she always wins.” Lawrence glowered. “Another round! I've coin to spare and a powerful thirst.”

A gentle hand came down on Brandy's shoulder. “Best let him be. He has these moods. He'll drink himself out of it and realize his foolishness in the morning with his headache.”

Brandy looked up into Jack's hazel eyes and saw a gentle understanding that threw her for a loop. “You've known him longer. I trust your judgment.”

“Many men have regretted those words.”

 

_She goes to the docks herself, unable to believe what she's been told. Her golden hair is covered with a tartan cloth, and her face is smudged with grime and dirt. These rough men might think her a common whore, but they will not know her for Brandy of the Green Dog, so she will not have to endure the laughter of those she works with._

_The docks bustle with activity, but she recognizes none of the faces. She stares at the ships, searching for the name_ Storm _on them, looking for the glint of sun on red hair. Her steps are long and sure, though her eyes are only on the bobbing wooden hulls._

 __Pride of Kent _,_ Skimmer _,_ Hutchinson _,_ Jane and Mary _,_ Lovely Grace _,_ Prudence _\- many ships have come into the port of Philadelphia, but Lawrence and the_ Storm _are nowhere to be seen._

_She turns away and makes her way back to the streets she knows, away from the sea._

 

“Brandy!” Lawrence shouted, catching her up in an embrace as he entered.

She squirmed out of his arms and turned a smoldering gaze on him, hands falling on her hips. “I know full well the _Storm_ has been three days in port, for every man of the crew has shown his face in here- even the captain's lady and their daughter. Every man but you. What has taken you so long to come and see me? Have you found another woman who suits you better?”

“No, for that I find unlikely. I brought you a gift, my fine girl, and I didn't want to see you until I had it in my hand,” Lawrence assured her. He rummaged through his things until he came up with a canvas pouch, which he handed her. “From a French pirate's ship, though I've no doubt they looted it from other hands.”

Brandy reached into the pouch and drew out a silver chain, braided in the Spanish manner. A silver locket hung from it, set with an amber stone in the front. “It's beautiful!”

“Open it,” Lawrence said.

She did so. In a fine delicate hand, the name _Brandy_ was engraved on one side, and the name _Lawrence_ on the other. “As soon as we made port, I brought the chain and the stone to the silversmith Harrington's shop and bought from him the locket and the engraving. He only just finished the work.”

“But why? This is a princely gift!”

“I've worn many names in my life, as I've no doubt you've heard Jack call me. It's rare for anyone to have a chance to call me by my true name. I think you understand the difference between the name you're born with and the name that's yours in your heart. That's what this token means to me. No matter where I am, I know one person holds my name close by their heart.”

“Thank you,” Brandy said, and she made to put the locket on.

“Let me,” he said. He took the chain and placed the locket around her slender neck. His touch sent shivers along her skin.

 

_”Your man will not return,” Cat says with a sneer._

_“Shut your mouth, you lying whore!” Brandy shrieks._

_Cat only smirks. “I've known of the_ Storm _longer than you, my lass, and they're heartbreakers every one. I could tell you tales that would turn your hair white. Tell me, did he ever get between your legs, or did he run from your touch like a scared little girl?”_

_Brandy hisses and lunges at her, hands extended into claws as she goes for Cat's green eyes, howling things that make the sailors blush. It takes Stephen some time to get them separated, and the boarder Isaac has to come help._

_Cat's breath comes quick and her eyes are bright. “I'm trying to protect your soft heart from the hurt you'll surely feel when you understand the cold cruel truth. 'Tis better to hate them than love them when they stab you so in the back.”_

_The bitterness in Cat's voice is enough for Brandy to ignore the warning she claims to give._

 

The table where Lawrence sat was by far the loudest in the tavern, for one reason or another, but she would have known him anyway, by the rich brown of his hair threaded with red-gold where the sun had kissed it, and by the proud set of his broad shoulders. She drifted closer with her tray to listen as he told the gathering about the tempest that had chased the _Storm_ up the coast until they were well past the Carolinas.

-”for Caro was still in Doc's cabin, and the captain would not leave her side out of fear for her life, so command fell to me. The waves were high as houses, great gray hills, and we climbed them not entirely of our own will. 'Twas not easy to hold the wheel in those winds, with the foam stinging my eyes and soaking my hands. I listened for the worst of the gales and steered away from them to let the winds drive us north. There was no safe harbor for us so far out from the coast, and we could not drop anchor and wait it out, so we piled on what sail we could- the second mate Taylor was up and down the masts like a monkey- and forced the storm to work for us...”

Brandy felt the floor move under her feet and a spray of salt water cold and sharp against her face. Though her head knew that he had to return from that journey to tell the tale, her heart beat faster as he spoke, fearing and wondering what would happen next.

“My throat is dry, friends. I need something to wet it. A cup of wine and a sip of Brandy should do,” he said suddenly. Brandy put the wine on the table and a kiss on his lips as he slipped the coin into her dress. “Ah, that's the stuff. Now, where was I? Yes, Taylor had just gone up the mast to shift the sail, but we yawed too sharp to port...”

 

_At night sometimes, she looks at the stars, drawing the shapes that he described to her once upon a time. She wonders if they truly do look the same in the waters off Jamaica as they do here, or if the images ought to be different._

_There are days such as these, crisp autumn nights where she wraps the scarf tighter around herself, imagines the scent of him and the feel of his arms around her, when the wide open sky that they share makes her feel less alone._

 

His face was drawn, new lines around the ones worn in by sun and sea and wind. “I may be gone for longer than the usual months. The captain's daughter is ill, and our doctor can do nothing for her. He thinks a cure may be found in England,” he told Brandy, catching her hands in his and squeezing them tight.

“But what of you and Jack? Surely they will know you for deserters and impress you back into His Majesty's navy- or worse!” Brandy said, pressing against him tightly, her brandy-brown eyes wide with worry.

But Lawrence laughed. “There's a reason the name I use on the _Storm_ is not the name I used in the Navy, and neither is the name I was rightly born to. There are many men in the Navy; they will not know us. And if somehow they do, Jack will do something ill-thought, dangerous, and foolhardy that will somehow save our skins. He's a knack for that.”

“I pray you're right,” Brandy said.

“As do I, my fine girl. Here, I have something for you, a token dear to my heart.” He reached into the sack over his shoulder and took out a length of red and green cloth. “The days are getting colder. You'll have need of this.”

She unfolded it to see that it was a scarf in a tartan pattern. “Thank you,” she said, not sure why he treated it with such care.

“I've had it since I was a lad. My father said it belonged to my mother's people, Scots from across the border. I don't know if that's true, but I'd be pleased if you wore it.”

“And I'd be honored.”

Brandy held very still as Lawrence put the scarf around her neck and arranged it along her slender shoulders. “Such a fine girl you are,” he said when he was done, and he leaned into her mouth to steal a soft kiss from her lips. Brandy closed her eyes and savored the taste of him.

When she opened them, he was gone.

 

_The stars shine bright in the midnight sky over Philadelphia. She looks up at them as she hurries back to Mrs. Richie's lodging-house, her eyes tracing the lines of shadows of houses and stores that hug the ground._

_Ice is forming on the streets of Philadelphia, and she must slow her steps to keep from falling. The scarf warms her nose and mouth, but her hands are chill as the wind picks up, screaming from the water._

_The days have been chill in the months and years since she last saw Lawrence, a chill in her soul that will not lift until he returns. Only her love warms her heart. She waits. She will wait._

**Author's Note:**

> I nobly resisted the temptation to cadge a line from the song for the title... so I adapted it from another song instead.


End file.
